


For British Eyes Only

by girlonthepedestal



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, based on that one part from arrested development, edwin jarvis is peggy carter's best friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlonthepedestal/pseuds/girlonthepedestal
Summary: Peggy Carter has a lifetime's worth of stories of shenanigans with Edwin Jarvis – she's lost count, and she could well still be counting.





	For British Eyes Only

“Drop of rum on my tongue,

To help me see myself clearer.

I never meant to start a fire,

I never meant to make you bleed.”

– Jaymes Young,  _ I’ll Be Good _

 

‘Organised chaos’ is truly the only way to explain the scattered mess of files, products and empty mugs that had at one point been filled with tea that litters the dressing table the brunette sits at, one leg neatly crossed over the other in some attempt at grace despite the fact she is still in her nightwear, and has company not of the sort she’d take to bed.

An exasperated smile stretches across red-painted lips as her hands busy themselves with setting her hair into its usual poise and order, and she endures the same old question – “Are you alright, Miss Carter?” – for the fifth time over in the same number of minutes. Well, perhaps that’s an unfair exaggeration; he’s not  _ that  _ insistent and repetitive, no matter how many times he may get on her nerves in a day, and he means well, doesn’t he? “I’m quite alright, Mister Jarvis,” is the ever-patient reply, as she sets her hair brush aside to inspect her handiwork. “And as I recall, that's the fifth time in less than half an hour that you've asked me, so perhaps you might stop now?”

Appearances have always had a special significance to the Englishwoman, that to others might seem extortionate, misplaced, or vain. The truth of this insistent habit is that there are precious few things you maintain complete control of in a job like Peggy Carter’s. Not least your life, your acquaintances, or surroundings. All these are assigned, scrutinised, and strenuously regulated. Her appearance is the small semblance of normality she has thus far been able to latch onto in order to maintain sanity in such a demanding occupation, just as her partner – formerly a butler, or  **_still_ ** a butler if you asked Edwin Jarvis himself (despite the fact there’s no time for side-jobs on the clock) – had preferred to maintain the role that resembled more of the ‘sidekick’ rather than leading. To serve others, if you will, and in this the world was just slightly familiar.

“Right. Habit. Sorry.” Jarvis’ gaze darts around the room, barely allowing a minim rest to offer a smile that’s in equal measures awkward and apologetic (because ‘eye contact is important when you’re being genuine’) before continuing his search for a splash of red that’s not Peggy’s dress, or her lipstick.

Perhaps it's the fact that she's so unapologetically blunt, and yet so obviously jesting to 'ruffle his feathers' , that's so refreshing about the way she handles herself. It may also be the reason that Edwin finds her to be such an amicable partner, or as he might call it, 'partner in ( _ fighting _ ) crime.' (The 'fighting' part was only included after Peggy questioned him on why he would ever consider her a partner in  **_crime_ ** . He still insists that it's a figure of speech that had no reflection on her attitude towards crime and / or fighting it, but making this small concession seemed to settle the debate.)

“Ah!” he exclaims, “my recreation tie! However did it get up there?”

“You tossed it in frustration after Howard decided to do something you'd advised him against,” Peggy supplies mildly. “I wonder why it still surprises you. The man simultaneously has  _ too much  _ self-preservation, and none at all.”

Jarvis retrieves the offending tie, and finds some way to blame it on the Starks’ eccentric flamingo, despite the fact they haven’t seen the damned bird since leaving Los Angeles (and, quite frankly, Peggy wouldn’t mind – perhaps even would prefer it – if she never saw the pink spawn of Satan ever again.)

Rising from her chair, she clears her throat. “Might I have a moment?” Peggy rolls her eyes at the quizzical look she receives, and gestures at her nightdress. “To get dressed, Mister Jarvis. Unless I’m to deal with this situation in my nightgown?”

“I have no doubt that you could do so, Miss Carter,” He hastily ducks out of the room.

“Thank you.” He can’t see it, but Peggy smiles, appeased. “You know, you’re the first person to say such a thing to me that I’m certain isn’t saying it because they have some  _ bizarre  _ sexual fantasy.” 

For one reason or another, Edwin doesn’t doubt as such. And he also doesn’t miss the fact that her statement had very clearly been a comment about Howard Stark; this was, after all, the same man she’d shoved into the Thames for attempting to kiss her, and the same man who had apparently complained, “you don’t need to get changed with the door closed. I thought we were friends!” Thus, it was quite possible that if he ever made such a comment, his thoughts were occupied by more than a friendly compliment.

Mercifully, he doesn’t have time to ponder on this any further, because the expectant and cheerful voice of his friend pipes up. “Ready, Mister Jarvis?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Miss Carter.”

Her hat’s a little lopsided. He reaches over and fixes it.


End file.
